


in case you're looking, that's my heart there on my sleeve

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-25
Updated: 2007-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: What should have happened during that fateful conversation in "Croatoan". Or, at least, part of what should have happened. ;)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Okay...this has been sitting on my laptop for, forever now. Most of it was written around the time "Croatoan" aired, but then bits and pieces I had to put together. I tried to make it run as smoothly as possible, but I'm still a little uncertain of it. Hopefully, it works!   


* * *

_“This is what you get._

_This is who I am._

_Take me now or leave me_

_Any way you can._

_Sometimes I trip and fall_

_But I know where I stand._

_And if you're thinking about changing my direction,_

_Don't mess with imperfection.”_

_-Saving Jane: “Imperfection”_

 

Sam all but glared at his older brother. He knew what was going to happen, they both did. He was just being stubborn. And he was seriously pissing Sam off right now. Dean had been all for shooting _anyone_ who could be infected, but now with Sam infected he wanted to wait and see. It just didn’t work like that.

 

He was risking his life for nothing.

 

"It's over for me but it doesn't have to be for you,” Sam tried to reason.

 

"No?" Dean asked, leaning back against the cart.

 

"No, you can keep going,” Sam insisted. His life didn’t have to end because Sam’s was over. He didn’t want that for his brother.

 

But what Dean said next was the last thing he had ever expected. "Who says that I want to?"

 

Sam stared at Dean in confusion, waiting for the punch line to a sick and twisted joke only his brother could understand. But Dean stared back at him, his face completely serious. His heart sank; letting the pain and confusion he felt show on his face. His brother couldn’t be serious. Couldn’t be thinking of giving up. This was _Dean_. Dean didn’t give up. He _never_ gave up.

 

“What?”

 

xXx

 

Dean sat down and took the gun out of his back pocket, watching Sam for a moment as his baby brother fought to understand him.

 

Why couldn’t he understand? For a damn college boy he wasn’t too bright sometimes. Or he just loved to torture Dean.

 

Which was probably the real reason.

 

"I'm tired Sam. Tired of this job, this life, this weight on my shoulders man, I'm tired of it."

 

He _was_ tired. Of everything.

 

Ever since Dad had laid this secret on him about Sam he’d been going out of his mind. He’d spent his entire life fighting to protect his brother and his family, and like that it could all be over. It was just another weight on his shoulders. And if Sam wasn’t around, what reason did he have to be strong?

 

Dad was dead and maybe there wasn’t anything he could do about that, not without hurting his family more.

 

Sam had already made his view on that very clear, no matter how hard Dean had tried to avoid the conversation. And he knew he couldn’t do it.

 

There were too many years of training and lessons burned into his mind for him to do something so foolish, so desperate.

 

So like what he wanted to do.

 

Resisting that had been hard enough, but now he was supposed to just give in and give up on his brother without a fight? There was no way he could do that either. He was going to wait things out with Sam and if he was infected, if he did get sick, Dean was going down with him.

 

Sam wasn’t going to go through this alone.

 

He’d been alone for too long. They both had. And for once Dean was going to do something to change things for _them_. 

 

xXx

 

Dean was tired? What the hell was he saying? He was the one that wanted this life, that craved it and pushed Sam to want it too. Now though, now he was tired? This had to be about Dad, about his dying for Dean. What else could have pushed him so far?

 

"So, what, you're just gonna give up?" Sam exclaimed. Dean said nothing, his face empty as if he’d given up long ago. "You're just gonna lay down and die? Look Dean, I know the stuff with Dad and I..."

 

He looked down. “You’re wrong.”

 

Sam paused, looking at him, waiting for an explanation. If this wasn’t about Dad, what the hell was this about? There couldn’t be anything else in the world to make Dean do this. He could have a life, a _real_ life now.

 

"It's not about Dad. I mean part of it is sure but..."

 

"Then what is it about?" Sam demanded. What the hell was so bad he had to let his life end this way when he had a chance. A real chance for once in their God damn lives?

 

“I just can’t do it anymore Sam. Not without you.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Sam warned, his throat constricting.

 

“Say what Sammy? You’re always telling me to be honest with you; always asking me if I’m okay. Well I’m not. Sam, I’m tired.”

 

Sam shook his head and changed his voice from that of warning to pleading. “Don’t say that.”

 

This couldn’t be it for them both, after everything they’d gone through, all the good they’d done and this was it? They didn’t deserve this, especially not Dean. He’d given up so much more than any of them had. He couldn’t do this.

 

Dean gave his brother a small smile. “Everything’s going to be fine Sammy. Things are over now; you don’t have to worry about trying to get away, about trying to be normal.”

 

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about being normal Dean! You can’t give up. Not now, after everything.”

 

Dean sighed and shook his head. “We don’t always get to decide how things turn out Sam. You and I both know that,” he said, his voice lowering on the last part.

 

He didn’t need to say it; Sam knew what he was talking about. He was talking about every lie, every mistake, every hurt, and more than all of it, about Sam leaving.

 

Again. And this time for good.

 

How the hell could he even think of something like that though when he was about to throw his life away?

 

Dean had finally gotten him back out on the road, with so much protesting and bitching Sam couldn’t even begin to imagine how many different ways he’d hurt Dean. But that part of their lives, that anger, Sam had thought it was done with. He thought that they’d come to an understanding.

 

If Dean was willing to die over it, then they hadn’t done anything but play pretend with each other since he came back. A thought that made him sick all over again.

 

Dean had to understand Sam didn’t want to leave his brother now, hadn’t wanted to back then either but he’d had to. He had a life to live and he couldn’t let Dad control him the way he did Dean. Couldn’t give up everything for his father.

 

“I’m not trying to leave you again, Dean. I don’t want to leave you. But you can’t give up over something so stupid!”

 

“I gave up a while ago, Sammy,” his brother finally admitted. The face he’d seen earlier, the one that had asked Sam how he couldn’t have seen it before, firmly in place.

 

“Don’t say things like that!” Sam hissed. “You can’t give up. That’s not you, Dean. You’re a stubborn son of a bitch.”

 

Dean laughed. “You’re getting the two of us confused baby brother. You’re the stubborn one.”

 

“Like hell,” Sam ground out. “You’re just as stubborn. This isn’t like you to just give up. You can’t sit here and wait to die.”

 

“You are,” he countered.

 

“That isn’t fair. I didn’t do this on purpose; you’re doing it just to hurt me.”

 

Dean’s face changed to one of pain. “Sammy-“

 

“Just don’t. All right, Dean?” Sam interrupted. “It doesn’t matter what you say, that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

 

xXx

 

Dean stood up quickly, anger clear in his stance. That wasn‘t fair. He wasn‘t deliberately hurting Sam, he was doing what he had to. He was doing the only thing he knew to do.

 

Because he couldn‘t kill Sam and he sure as hell couldn‘t let Sam kill himself. No amount of training could change his mind on that. All he could do was wait and see if Sam got sick. But if what Dad had said was true, then maybe something good would come out of this curse. Maybe it would keep Sam from getting sick and then this whole conversation would be pointless.

 

If it didn‘t, well, Sam wasn‘t going to die alone.

 

“You don’t think it hurts me to think of you dying?” he demanded. “You think this is some kind of game to me?”

 

“Dean I didn’t mean-“

 

“No,” Dean snapped. “You don’t get to be sweet Sammy right now, all right? I can’t take that.” His voice weakened and he fell back against the wall, no longer able to look at the younger Winchester and his open, honest face.

 

That sweet, trusting face with those puppy dog eyes that had always been able to melt him. He couldn’t look at Sam like that, couldn’t think of him dying. Especially now. They had a lot of things to talk about, to work out. Lost time that they could never make up for. Lost time they couldn’t even _try_ to make up for now.

 

It wasn’t fair for Sam to turn sweet, to give him those puppy dog eyes and then tell Dean all the ways he was hurting him. He’d done his fair share of hurting, as an older brother it was his duty to torture Sam to some extent, and he‘d done what he could to make up for it over the years.

 

This, however, was not the same at all.

 

This wasn’t deliberate. This wasn’t some sick joke he could apologize for later. This was about Sam and his life. This was about them and the decisions they were making now.

 

Not in the past.

 

xXx

 

“It’s Sam,” he tried joking weakly.

 

He didn’t want to hurt Dean. Hadn’t meant his words to sound so cold. He just couldn’t stand the thought of his brother giving up when he had so much to offer.

 

The joke was weak, but it worked. Dean laughed softly and looked up. “You’ll always be my Sammy.”

 

Sam felt like he’d just been punched in the gut, all the air leaving his lungs at once. _His_ Sammy. He was Dean’s Sammy and always would be.

 

He hadn’t heard that in years; not since he was a child. The way things had been over the past few years, Sam had expected any of those feelings to have faded away. Or to at least have dimmed.

 

Sam knew what he was to Dean _growing up_. He’d seen it in the way Dean stood up for him and protected him. The fights he’d gotten into, no matter how pointless Sam had thought they were, over anything and everything concerning Sam.

 

He’d been kicked out of a school or two along the way because of it but he never complained. And whatever punishment Dad gave him he accepted without protest. He never explained to Dad what they were over, or how it had saved Sam some sort of pain, physical or otherwise.

 

He never used it as an excuse. He never let Sam thank him. He just did it and moved on.

 

Because he was his Sammy and that was enough reason for anything.

 

“Your Sammy?” he asked breathlessly.

 

Dean’s cheeks flooded with color. “Yeah, well. You’ve always been my Sammy. You know that.”

 

“I didn’t know that.”

 

xXx

 

Dean’s blush faded, pain infusing his features. Sammy didn’t know that? How could he not know that? When had Dean ever told Sam he didn’t mean something to him? When had he ever said that he cared less?

 

He may not have gotten in the middle of Sam’s fights with Dad all the time, but he’d done it a few times more than he wanted to.

 

And as unaffectionate as he seemed now with him, he’d always hugged Sam no matter what Dad said. He’d always held Sam’s hand on the first day of a new school, no matter how old either of them got. He’d always pulled Sam close when he had a nightmare or was worried over something to the point that he couldn’t sleep, no matter how awkward it had been sometimes. And he’d always given him the praise he deserved in some way, no matter how small the accomplishment.

 

All those things, those random, out of character things he’d done for Sam, had been done because he was _his Sammy_.

 

He’d thought that was clear.

 

xXx

 

“I mean,” Sam began quickly, hating himself for hurting his brother again twice in a matter of seconds. “When we were kids I knew, I always knew. But I just assumed that after I told you I was going to Stanford…”

 

“I was angry. Things were changing between us. But you’ve been my reason for living for twenty-three years; nothing’s going to change that.”

 

Sam was floored by his brother’s confession. He knew Dean loved him, it was obvious in the way he’d sacrificed so much for him, but to hear him say that he was his reason for living? It was like having his heart ripped from his chest; to think Dean felt that way and to know all the mistakes he’d made.

 

If Sam overanalyzed this one, like he did everything else, he’d probably come to the conclusion that if he had died first and Dad was sitting here now Dean would have been doing the same thing. Giving up because he didn’t have anyone left. It didn’t really have to do with Sam, more like family.

 

But he wasn’t going to do that right now. Not when Dean was saying things like that to him, saying something other than the usual superficial comments.

 

“Dean, I know that you had to give up a lot for me and for Dad. You took care of me and gave me everything you could,” Sam said shaking his head. He couldn’t believe how much he could hurt his brother and not realize it.

 

“It wasn’t much,” Dean said rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

 

“No, it was too much,” he argued. “You had nothing Dean. You lived to take care of us. You didn’t give a damn about yourself. And we took advantage of that. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it sooner.”

 

“It was just something I had to do Sammy. You’re my family, what else should I have done?”

 

Sam shook his head and leaned back against the wall. His brother was so selfless it made him sick. Why couldn’t he feel the same way Dean did? Why did he have to be so selfish and take from his brother until he had nothing left?

 

Until it came down to this.

 

“You’re too good for this. Don’t give up because of something so stupid. Live your life the way you want, there’s nothing to hold you back now.”

 

Dean stood up, angry again. His hands fisted at his side. “Is that what you think?” he demanded. “That you and Dad were holding me back? How the fuck else am I supposed to explain things to you Sam? You just don’t get it. Doesn’t family mean _anything_ to you?”

 

“You mean everything to me!” Sam yelled back, slamming his hand down and wincing as he realized he’d used the wrong hand. Dean thought that he was the only one misunderstood here, but he wasn’t. Sam had always tried to make it clear to Dean that he was important to him. But he never let himself see it. Never, no matter how much of an idiot Sam made of himself. “That’s why I hate this life, that’s why I hated being here, why I fucking _left_! Because we were taking everything from you and you got nothing.”

 

Swallowing hard Sam forced himself to calm down. This wasn’t how he wanted to die, screaming at his older brother. He wanted things to be right between them. He didn’t want his last words to his brother to be about how much he hated his life and why he left him. He wanted him to realize that as much as that had hurt, it was for something better. It was for Dean.

 

“You deserve better, Dean. That’s all I meant. Family means more to me than you think, but you were the only real family I had. So don’t expect me to defend Dad the way you do. I loved him, but he wasn’t you.”

 

“Whatever, man.”

 

Why couldn’t he ever just taking something for what it was? Why did it always have to mean something else, something terrible?

 

“I remember everything you ever did for me, Dean. Everything you’d probably just deny now,” Sam snorted. “Can you blame me for wanting something more for you? You’re not going to want it for yourself, because you’re more selfless than anyone I’ve ever met. But if nothing else, don’t do this because I’m asking you not to. Do something that’s for _you_ , for once in your life.”

 

xXx

 

How the hell could Sam be so sure of him? Be so damn set in his belief that Dean was some kind of angel? Sam kept saying he was selfless, saying that he never did anything for himself, but he was wrong.

 

He was selfish and twisted. His brother just couldn’t see it. Dean didn’t want him to see it.

 

If Sam knew the kind of things that Dean wanted he’d take everything he’d just said back in a heartbeat.

 

“Sammy, I’m not what you think. I wish I was man, but I’m not.“

 

Sam snorted again. “Why because you’ve actually wanted something for yourself, but never gone after it? You think that makes you selfish somehow?”

 

“I dragged you away from everything you ever wanted. I brought this kind of life back to you and you lost _everything_. Jessica, Stanford, Dad…Sam you can’t even show your face at Stanford again if you made it out of here alive. So how selfless am I really?” Dean asked bitterly. “I wanted something and I went after it. And look what happened to you.”

 

That was only the beginning of things though. Dean didn’t just want Sam back here with him hunting.

 

He wanted Sam.

 

How selfless was that?

 

xXx

 

If Sam thought his brother couldn’t have said anything else, that could possibly shake his beliefs anymore than he already had, he was wrong. Because to hear Dean say that he wanted Sam there with him, that he thought everything had been his fault-because he was selfish…his mind was blown.

 

This couldn’t be his older brother standing here in front of him. Of all the things Dean had blamed himself for this had to be the most ridiculous of them all.

 

His shock gave way to disbelieving laughter. His whole body hurt from the insanity of it, tears leaking from his eyes. He clapped a hand tightly over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the hysterical sounds his mouth was making all on its own.

 

“Dean,” he choked out, followed by a sharp burst of laughter. “Have you been drinking when I wasn’t looking or something?”

 

“What the hell’s so funny, Sam?”

 

“You are.”

 

Sam shook his head and covered his face with both hands. He couldn’t even look at Dean right now if he wanted to be able to breathe again. And he most definitely wanted to breathe again. If for no other reason to make sure that Dean knew he was, without a doubt, certifiably insane.

 

Demented, illogical, absurd…and unbelievably adorable.

 

That last word had him choking on his laughter. Thinking his brother was adorable was insane. More insane than what Dean had just admitted to him. In fact, it went beyond insane. There was no word for what Sam was.

 

Except for sick.

 

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “I can’t believe you’re sitting here blaming yourself for any of that. Next you’re gonna tell me you control the weather too, right? So it was your fault, the one time Dad actually agreed to let me go somewhere with the school, it rained?”

 

“All right,” Dean said, irritated. “Enough.”

 

“No, no, I want to understand this, Dean. I want to understand how it’s your fault this demon’s been after our family our entire lives, I want to understand how it’s your fault-”

 

“Enough,” He snapped.

 

Sam sighed. “C’mon, man. None of that was your fault. And it certainly wasn’t because you were _selfish_.”

 

If anyone in this family was selfish, it was Sam. Dean had accused him of running away from family, from him. What he didn’t get was that Sam hadn’t left because he wanted to be as far from him as possible, it wasn’t even because he wanted normal (not completely anyway). Leaving had been his way of asking Dean if he loved him. His twisted, desperate attempt at getting Dean’s attention again. Like when they were kids. When Dean had done all those out of character things, when Dean had gone out of his way to make Sam feel loved.

 

It was the ultimate test.

 

xXx

 

He was glad that Sam found his guilt so funny. That to him it was all one big joke. For the kid that had done nothing but push, all their lives, for Dean to share his feelings, he sure the hell knew how to be insensitive.

 

Hell, he’d learned from the best.

 

That wasn’t how Sam had meant it though, he was sure. Because if he told Sam he was being insensitive his puppy dog eyes would come out and his face would soften. That, _pleaseDean_ tone in his voice would appear and Dean would forget whatever it was he was mad about.

 

The same voice he’d always used to get anything and everything he wanted without much of a fight. If any.

 

Sam just didn’t take it seriously. He had in his mind a set image of Dean, of their lives, and the things that had happened. There was no changing that. Not without Dean doing or saying something so earth shattering, so mind numbing, that Sam’s brain actually ceased to function.

 

Something impossible.

 

Something that would never, ever, happen.

 

Something like kissing him senseless.

 

xXx

 

“Dean?” he said tentatively. He wasn’t trying to push, but what else was he supposed to do? Sit there and hope he died a hell of a lot quicker than they expected, all so he wouldn’t have to sit in awkward silence with his brother while he literally guilted his life away? “Man, I didn’t have to come. You didn’t hold a gun to my head.”

 

“Might as well have, Sammy.”

 

He snorted. “You know as well as I do that if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t. No matter what you did.”

 

“You were hurt, I took advantage of that.”

 

“Oh, please! Dean, look man, I love you, but you’re an idiot. I came because we’re family and you needed me.”

 

“Would you listen to yourself Sam? When I asked you to help me find Dad, do you remember what you said? You said you had to be back by Monday. That you’re whole future depended on it.” Dean shook his head. “Family or not, you weren’t staying any longer than that weekend. No matter how much I needed you. If Jessica hadn’t…”

 

Sam nodded. That was fair. He had said that to Dean, but that was before he’d realized how childish he was being. How idealistic.

 

Jess’s death had shown him what Dean kept trying to tell him, that he didn’t have a choice. His life was already chosen before he’d said his first word. All he could do was ride it out, find the yellow eyed demon and fight for the chance to live his version of normal.

 

That didn’t mean that he had to go anywhere with his brother though. It didn’t mean that he had to keep following him all across America. He could have gone off on his own, he could have stayed there and kept playing games, kept hiding from himself.

 

If he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be here.

 

“Dean, you didn’t need me. If you needed me, do you really think an interview would have kept me away?”

 

“It was your whole future, Sam.”

 

And like that his world shattered.

 

xXx

 

When Sam opened his mouth to comfort Dean, the only thing he could think of were those soft, full lips. The way they’d feel or taste under his. How many different ways he could make them part, make Sam moan.

 

Lips that shattered any hope of concentration.

 

He watched Sam’s mouth move as he tried to make things right. Something Sam had done so many times it should have been burned into his mind. But even if it had been, he wouldn’t have stopped watching.

 

He loved the way Sam’s mouth pulled down when he was upset or unsure, afraid that he’d said something hurtful. Or the way he’d pause in uncertainty, his mouth open and inviting. But that wasn’t what drove him crazy.

 

It wasn’t even the way he licked or chewed at his lips, until you wanted to throw him down and fuck his mouth until you couldn’t move.

 

It was when he smiled. That full blown, heart wrenching, gut socking, smile, that _finally_ reached his eyes.

 

That was what made it so hard to keep his mouth shut.

 

That was what made it so easy to keep his mouth shut.

 

xXx

 

“Yeah, well, I messed up, didn’t I?”

 

“No,” Dean said shaking his head. “I messed it up for you. Maybe if I hadn’t come looking for you, you’d still be happy.”

 

“I am happy.” Dean quirked a brow at him, a _now who’s the one that’s been drinking_ look on his face. “Let me rephrase that. I’m not exactly thrilled to be here exactly. But I’m happy with you. I missed you. For the most part anyway.”

 

Dean laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, well. I missed you too Sam. For the most part.”

 

Sam took a deep breath. This next part may be going to far, in Dean‘s opinion, but he was going to say it anyway. If for no other reason than to torture him. “Dean, before you call me a girl, remember I’m dying here. Do you really want those to be the last words-”

 

“Sam!” Dean cut him off sharply, his voice hoarse. “Get to the fucking point.”

 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I just want things to be clear with us.”

 

“They are clear,” Dean disagreed. He leaned his head back against the wall and crossed one leg over the other, impatient for this conversation to end.

 

“I don’t think so. In fact, I’m sure they’re not. I don’t blame you for anything, I don’t _have_ anything to blame you _for_. I never regretted you coming to Stanford. Hunting and everything else aside. I didn’t want us to stop being brothers, Dean. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

 

“How the fuck could you think that’s what I wanted?” he demanded. “Did you ever once here me say I didn’t want to be your brother anymore? Did you _ever_ hear me say things were over if you left? Fuck what Dad said, Sam. He doesn’t speak for the both of us, despite what you think.”

 

“When you didn’t call or-”

 

Dean swore and shoved himself away from the wall. “I was pissed Sam. My little brother took off, without any warning. Didn’t tell me he was even applying to college. It fucking hurt, Sam. I wasn’t really in a chatting kind of mood.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said lamely. It was the only thing he could think of. And even as he said it, he knew it was wrong. Knew it sounded lame and insincere. Sorry didn’t make up for what he’d done, it didn’t even begin to cover it. But it was all he had left.

 

xXx

 

Dean swore again, hating the broken look on Sam’s face. If Sam was dying, if this was really it, he wasn’t going to let it end on an _I’m sorry_ and awkward silence.

 

Fuck being selfless, fuck Sam’s perfect image of his brotherly intentions.

 

He wanted to shake up Sam’s world. He wanted him to know every fucked up thought and emotion he’d ever had toward Sam, because, fuck, it was over anyway. Might as well be honest and let Sam know who, _what_ , he truly was.

 

Ignoring every warning bell in his head he crossed the room and slammed Sam back against the wall. He swallowed Sam’s hiss of pain, taking care to bruise Sam’s mouth with his own.

 

He wanted Sam to feel this, to remember this.

 

To remember the exact moment his world shattered and he got to know his brother.

 

But what Dean got wasn’t what he expected. Sam didn’t fight back, didn’t even try. He froze under Dean’s touch for a split second, until surprise faded out and desire won.

 

He kissed Dean back just as forcefully, a soft cry of pleasure slipping out as Dean nipped at his lower lip. That soft sound only urging him further, drowning out the screaming warnings in his mind. This was wrong, and hell if he didn’t care.

 

“My Sammy,” Dean murmured against his lips.

 

“Yours?” Sam whimpered.

 

“Mine,” he growled forcefully, his hand sliding up Sam’s back.

 

xXx

 

Dean’s mouth was hot and desperate against Sam’s, pleading for him to tell him that this was okay.

 

But it was okay. It was unbelievably okay.

 

So okay, that Sam didn’t understand why they’d never done this before.

 

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” he asked, giving voice to his thoughts.

 

Dean laughed. “Because it’s incest and it’s wrong.”

 

“It can’t be wrong,” he protested. “Not when it feels like this.”

 

“Feels like what?”

 

“Like I can’t breathe without you.

 

“Don’t say things like that.”

 

“I’m dying Dean; I can say whatever I want.” Sam’s tone was light and teasing, just wanting Dean to shut up and listen to what he was feeling. He didn’t want to die without his brother knowing how he felt about him, without his brother understanding all the things he had done. Or more than anything, for Dean to understood that he never wanted to hurt him.

 

Dean shoved him back harshly, panting. “That’s not funny.”

 

“Sorry,” Sam said reaching for Dean.

 

Dean smacked his hands away and took a few steps back. “That’s not funny,” he repeated angrily.

 

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, okay?”

 

“Baby?” Dean gaped, watching his brother incredulously.

 

Sam’s face flooded with color. He hadn’t meant to say that, not out loud at least. He waited for his brother to punch his lights out. Dying or not, Dean wasn’t going to let him get away with calling him baby.

 

It was like a knee jerk response for him though. Whenever he’d fought with Jess he’d always started off an apology with some form of endearment. Sweetie, honey, something like that.

 

With Dean, _baby_ had just slipped out.

 

Maybe because it was the only thing he’d never called Jess.

 

“Dean-“

 

The door swung open at that moment, crushing all hopes of Sam’s explaining things. Dr. Lee stood in the doorway.

 

“I think you better come see this,” she said tightly.

 

Dean spared one last glance for him and then nodded, following her from the room. Sighing in frustration Sam followed behind at a safe distance, wanting desperately to wrap his arms back around his brother and make him understand. As ridiculous as that thought was, it was going to have to wait.

 

Like everything else.

 

Their lives were on hold all over again.


End file.
